"And shall," replied the American in the same calculated, colorless voice, "while I live."
"I, too," said Pagratide. "Therefore we must talk."
"Wait." Benton raised a hand. "If we are to talk at all along these lines, Pagratide, there is only one way in which it can be done."
"And that is what?"
"That each of us, throughout, talks with only one thought in mind: her happiness; that one strip aside all conventions and talk as two utterly naked souls might talk."
"Of course," said Karyl simply. "Otherwise I should not have suggested it."
"Then," began Benton, "up to this point we are agreed."
The King, despite his pallor, smiled.
"I'm afraid you still don't understand me. I haven't come to murder you, or to invite murder, Benton. It would not help."
"You have just said that one of us is an interloper. Presumably you have come to decide which one it is."